


Until Death Do Us Part

by Papyarus



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Jewish Character, Minor Character Death, Nazis, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-15 21:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11814312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papyarus/pseuds/Papyarus
Summary: An unemployed doctor ruins a wedding, befriends some birds, and makes a deal with the devil.[Something I wrote a few months back, and finally felt ready to publish, especially considering current events. Please note: This story does include brief mentions of Nazism, but in the form of condemnation and violent resistance from a Jewish character, written by a Jewish author.][Contains brief mentions of [dead] Nazis, gore, death, and murder; as well as religion, Hell, and so on.]





	Until Death Do Us Part

It was, Ludwig supposed, a very reckless, foolish, and terrible decision. There were slim few ways he could justify this, to himself or anyone else if he was caught.

To be fair, the wedding _had_ been incredibly dull- from what he had seen of it before he stabbed a man and stolen the van, at least.

The good doctor tore down the highway, tires squealing as he pushed them to their limits, his ears straining for the sound of sirens behind him. Luckily, none yet, but they’d doubtlessly be on the way eventually. Ludwig gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles flashing white from the pressure. He turned a corner, barely registering the stop sign.

Well, honestly, only the van theft was foolish, now that he had a moment to think about it. Ludwig didn't regret a damn thing about killing the man. Maybe that was a sign of skewed priorities, or just what an awful person he’d killed.

And he had been, of course- an absolutely abysmal wretch of a man. Ludwig had known that face, even weathered by time, obscured by facial hair in an attempt to hide in plain sight.

He hadn't come to the wedding to crash it, only trying to hold down a job as a servant now that his medical licence was _temporarily_ revoked. He hadn't come to work on his _hobby,_  either. But somehow or another, life had dealt him this hand, and Ludwig wasn't one to fold.

So, when he had recognized the guest as a Nazi officer who had gone in hiding after the war, what was he to do but stab the man? One name down from his painfully extensive list of _Nazischweine_ , all of whom deserved to be butchered.

Some people pick up scrapbooking or stamp collecting. Ludwig remembered the names and faces of those who slaughtered his kinfolk, found them, and prepared a blade or saw for each of their throats.

Ludwig _had_ been careful, more or less. He had not only killed the man swiftly, but left the body in a closet. Of course, it was bound to be discovered eventually. Maybe escaping wasn't the best plan of action- it drew too much attention to himself, for one. Not hard to figure out the culprit of a murder when one of the servants steals a van and drives off midway through the matrimonial ceremony of the English Prime Minister.  

On the bright side, he’d given his employers a fake name.

His adrenaline wearing down, Ludwig slowed the van at the next stop sign, watching a few cars carefully as they passed. What he needed to do now was abandon this van somewhere secluded enough to avoid detection, but close enough to a town that he wouldn’t strand himself…  
  
And then, God knows what. He couldn’t go back to the wedding, obviously. He’d just abandoned the only job he’d managed to scrounge up in months. Licence still forfeited. He could try again, of course, a new false identity and bullshitted resume held together by metaphorical duct tape, but-

Something was shuffling behind him.

Ludwig nearly slammed his foot on the gas at the sound, whipping his head back to the source. His breath quickened. He realized, all too late, that he had never checked the back of the van. There could be another employee back there- or several- for all he knew he’d taken the whole kitchen staff for a joyride. Ludwig bit his lip, suddenly struck with the ridiculous mental image of the Prime Minister and his bride-to-be sitting in the back of van, wondering what the hell was going on.  
  
Steadying himself, Ludwig forced the divider window open and peered in.

Oh.

This was not a catering van. At least, not anymore.

A large cage of very confused doves greeted him from the back.

He gaped for a long moment, watching them flutter and shuffle around their carrier, before a car horn reminded him he was on the road. Shaking himself out of his shock, Ludwig drove in a slight daze until he saw an opportunity to pull over.  
  
Hs subconscious nagged him to get back on the road. Instead, he unlocked the back doors, and stared at the stolen flock.

Yes, the van had once been used for food, but he could see, now- it’d been remodeled, the culinary equipment long since cleared out and replaced by a massive bird cage.  
  
The doves shifted about in their cage as he approached, cooing and warbling. They didn't seem afraid, exactly, but they still mostly shied away from him, and seemed fairly unnerved- likely from their routine being broken and the absence of their owner.

“Hello, little dears, how are you?” Ludwig whispered, awestruck by them. He kneeled down beside the cage, keeping a respectful distance away. He stared intently, following their every move. Some were preening, others clung to the cage mesh and peered back at him. A few stretched and hopped about, one or two sat on a water bowl dipped their beaks in from time to time.  
  
Ludwig was talking, he realized belatedly, catching himself in the middle of explaining to the birds how beautiful they were. His mouth always did run faster than he could understand, but at least the birds seemed soothed by it.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, watching the birds he had unintentionally stolen, speaking gently to them until they calmed down. They didn't understand, of course, what he was saying or even what was going on. Even if they _were_ capable of understanding human speech, they almost certainly did not know German. But they were tame enough, and knew to trust humans who treated them kindly.

As he outstretched his hand to one of the nearest, bravest doves, Ludwig’s subconscious chimed in again, more insistent. He needed to drive. By now, the dead man had certainly been found, and the police would be searching for the van. He shouldn’t make it any easier on them by loitering on the side of the road, playing with doves. Ludwig sighed, and stood up, brushing himself off, muttering reluctant goodbyes.  
  
The instant he started driving again, Ludwig was lost in thought.  
  
As a child, Ludwig had learned as much as he could about as many species of birds as he could. It had been one of his few entertaining pastimes throughout years of isolation and neglect. While pigeons and doves had not been his focus at the time, he vaguely remembered that homing pigeons- those used and released in weddings- could find their way home from thousands of miles distance.  
  
He could easily release these birds now, or any time, and they would go home to their owner, wherever they might be. In fact, he probably _should_ do that.  
  
Ludwig continued to drive.  
  
He had committed multiple crimes today, after all, what was one more?  
  
\--  
  
Ludwig was lucky enough to find a farmer with loose morals and a charmable personality right around the time the van began to run out of gas. He couldn’t completely ditch the van without fear of displacing the birds, not yet, but he persuaded his new bedmate to let him hide the van in the thankfully-spacious barn, at least until something could be figured out.  
  
His temporary home was secluded enough that it was unlikely that police would find their way to him, and his host was easily persuaded into letting him stay a few more nights, but the worry still gnawed at him. Less for his own sake, and more for the doves.  
  
He had found plenty of supplies in the van, including enough food to last the birds for a while. And Ludwig had spent as much time as possible with them and their cage, talking to them, feeding them, getting them used to his presence.  
  
He had found a list of names in the glove compartment- names of the birds, he assumed. Each bird had a band on one leg, and each band had a lengthy number- that number corresponded to a name on the list. A good idea, definitely, but it was too difficult to recognize most birds on sight- all the bands were the same dull gray, and the numbers hardly stood out. Ludwig resolved to change that, when he could.  
  
If he could.  
  
Getting the birds used to his presence was not enough, after all.  
  
The issue with stealing homing pigeons when on the run, Ludwig had realized, are twofold. Firstly, if any of the birds were to be released, they would try to fly home, especially if the entire flock was released at once. Whether or not they would actually reach their home was a different story. Secondly, while he could potentially train the birds to recognize a different loft, and forget their previous one, at the moment Ludwig didn’t have a home himself. Let alone a pigeon loft.  
  
The birds were itching to be let out of their transportation cage, as well- it was spacious, but not the same as the open sky. One of the birds- Archimedes, according to his number band, though Ludwig had to double check a few times- seemed especially irritable, managing to peck hard enough to draw blood one morning. A feat, to be sure, as pigeons are not known for violence.  
  
The more time passed, the more Ludwig worried that he needed to make a decision- release the doves, and hope that they all survived their way home- as they could never survive in the wild; or find a way to retrain the doves and go against their nature.  
  
One night, as his gracious host snored beside him, Ludwig had an idea.   
  
A mad one, to be sure, but most of his ideas were.   
  
And so he slipped out of bed and went to work.

\--

 

“Well, well. Hello, Mr. Reich-”

“Ah, please, Reich was my father’s name, and his choice. Call me Dr. Reichstein, yes?”

“... So, Mr. Ludwig, I’ve had the chance to look over your repertoire. Quite extensive, I must say, I really have to congratulate you, especially for avoiding detection on the surface.”

“Thank you, it really is quite an honor to hear such praise from a man of your authority.”

“Flattery, flattery… That might work up above, but not down here, let alone on me.”

“I was only speaking the truth, I assure you, Mr… Ah, well, this is embarrassing. What title would you prefer- you have many more than me. In German, I know, we often call you _der_ _Teufel_ , but I know that there are other terms… Prince of Lies, Prince of Darkness, King of Hell, Beelzebub, Mephistopheles- I quite like that one, honestly-”

“Just Satan will do fine, please. Or Lucifer, if you prefer.”

“Mephy for short? Ah, well, as I was saying, Mephy, I have certainly “raised hell” up there, wouldn't you say?”

“Mm. Maybe, maybe. Did you summon me to sing your own praises?”

“Of course not, of course not… I summoned you to offer a deal.”

“A… deal.”

“One you may quite like, yes! As you have said, I have done many awful things in the world. I know that. I do not plan to change that. Especially when my practices are so focused on the scum of the earth… The _Nazischweine_ , of course, ah?”

“Continue.”

“So, I have killed, yes, and I have murdered and slaughtered and experimented- for a good cause, yes, but I suppose it is still a _sin_ in the eyes of the _Almighty God_ , yes?”

“Ha! I love a man who criticizes the old bastard upstairs. But yes, that whole Commandment bullshit about not murdering does condemn you to me.”

“Hmmm, and therein lies a bit of my little proposition. Now, you see, I have difficulty now in tracking down my prey, the _Schweine_. I have not been caught yet, but it is often a near thing, and it is harder to find them nowadays, they are too deep in the shadows. Too hidden for me to sniff out, to tear apart.”

“Mr Ludwig-”

“Ah, you want the point of this. Well- I wish for your help in finding the  _Nazischweine_ I hunt for, and mayhaps other wretched filth who I may help eradicate. In return, their damned souls go straight to you. And for me, I not only continue to do what I love, but mayhaps we can both cheat God a little bit, ah?”

“If you’re asking to go to Heaven, good luck. I’m humble enough to admit that I don't have that kind of power- I can't erase the sins of a soul for a little deal. And I’m afraid you will have to sweeten that deal a little more.”

“Fine, fine... You may have MY damned soul, as well, right now, instead of waiting for me to die.”

“HA! You quickly give up on the fantasy of salvation.”

“I am humble enough to admit I probably do not deserve it, ja? I only suggested it just in case, but it's not a major concern for me, at least not at the moment. No, Mephy, my goal is to hunt and to kill, as I have already done, but with less fear for my life, more targets, maybe a bit more power as well.”  
  
“An interesting proposition. And I am not one to turn down a soul offered to me… I can start drawing up a contract-”  
  
“No need, my friend! I already have one ready- you can read through it as much as you like, it should all be perfectly in order.”  
  
“Prepared, aren’t you? Hmm... what kind of “power” were you looking forward to obtaining, again?”  
  
“Nothing like you might be thinking, I assure you. I understand your limits as well as mine, Mephy. No, the power I was hoping to obtain is a little bit… unorthodox, but I am sure it will be well within your rights to grant, and help both of us in the long run. Nothing too strong in the hands of a mortal, but still more than useful for me, ja?”  
  
“What did you have in mind?”  
  
\--  
  
Ludwig had a new spring in his step the next morning, which his host commented on. Ludwig waved it off, saying that he would likely be able to leave the farm that afternoon, and that he was grateful for his hospitality. Ludwig pretended not to notice the stark relief on the farmer’s face as he said that- he knew his quirks were a bit much for most people. Though frankly, how was he to know every possible way people might react to stories of his past self-operated surgeries?  
  
After breakfast, which he barely touched, and a few dodged conversations, Ludwig left to the barn, as he had done every morning. This time, he strained his ears as he walked, listening to the bird song.  
  
There was something new to it all, that quickened his pace, shortened his breath. He unlocked the barn door with trembling hands, passing the stables with a short nod to the horses.  
  
He could hear them. The sound was almost enough to drive him mad, if he wasn't already.  
  
Overlapping voices, soft and sleepy, growing startled as Ludwig’s boots crunched against the barn’s dirt floor.  
  
/Who is it?/  
  
/What is it?/  
  
/Is it the man?/  
  
/Is it the owner?/  
  
/Is it a predator?/  
  
/Who are you?/  
  
“Hello, little darlings! Can you hear me?” Medic opened the van’s back door, grinning wildly.  
  
/A voice!/  
  
/A voice?/  
  
/It’s the man!/  
  
/Why do we hear him?/  
  
/Who is he?/  
  
/Hello!/  
  
/We hear you!/  
  
/Why?/  
  
Ludwig laughed as one of the more eager doves climbed up the cage mesh to get as close to him as possible, seemingly maddened with curiosity.  
  
/What is funny?/  
  
/Hello!/  
  
/Who are you?/  
  
/I don’t understand./  
  
/Is this home?/  
  
“I will explain, little dears, I promise. All in due time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well. It's been a while since I posted anything I've written. 
> 
> I've actually got about 10 other TF2 fics in various stages of completion, but this is so far the only one I feel up to posting, since it stands alone pretty solidly- the rest need a lot of context about my headcanons and the like. 
> 
> This one only needs a little context:  
> -Obviously, this is set a while before Medic joins the mercenaries- at least a few years.  
> -My headcanon last name for Medic is Reichstein, simply because that was my German Jewish great-grandfather's last name. He[my great grandfather] changed it to "Reich" prior to WWII to avoid harm brought onto him and our family. As you can probably tell, I've adopted this fact into my headcanons, I suppose as a misguided form of memorialization for a man I never met. To clarify it slightly, Medic didn't chose to change his name himself, his father changed it for the same reason as my relative.  
> -Medic is a German Jew, obviously.  
> -Medic is a very mentally ill man who was isolated heavily from childhood and has very very poor social skills as a result. I'll probably elaborate on this in a future fic.  
> -He's made it a hobby to find and kill Nazis and Nazi supporters throughout the years since his early 20s.  
> -In case the last bit is unclear, Medic sold his soul to speak with/understand birds. Because honestly, thats exactly the kind of shit that he would do, and that TF2 would do.


End file.
